Medicine Hunt
by DeniseV
Summary: It's spring and time for a medicine hunt. Ezra, Vin, J.D. and Casey head to the near reaches just outside of town, with a few others tagging along.


The early season lilacs drew the hummingbirds and the butterflies and the bees to the garden, as had the blossoms of the apple and apricot trees what seemed like just days before. The penstemon and the agastache persuaded them to stay, the two perennial flowers' mid-season bloom and persistent growth keeping them around, buzzing and flitting about happily. The aphids made nary an appearance. The widow was grateful for that as managing them was a full-time job that she really hadn't time for between her full-time job of mercantile owner and mother of two bright, rambunctious children. The spring was mild enough this year that the garden was already full of life with the reemergence of the sage and rosemary, thyme and tarragon. The tomato and pepper and tomatillo plants were young and under the protection of cloth at the end of each day to help them through the still-cool overnight hours. Other vegetables and herbs rounded out the garden, as did early season greens. Flowers brought more color into this section of the garden, encouragement for the beneficial insects that would help with pollinating, where needed, and keep the worst of the insects at bay that were unfriendly to the bounty growing here.

"Good morning, Gloria," Mary Travis said as she made her way to the restaurant for breakfast. "The garden looks so beautiful already."

"Thank you, Mary," Gloria Potter said as she watered the thirsty plants.

"You've been able to get an early start this year."

"Yes. Isn't it wonderful?"

"It certainly is." The newspaper publisher looked around, admiring what would be a plentiful harvest come summer and into the fall, but seeing something missing. "Where are your helpers?" The store owner's two children were often seen helping with assorted chores related to the garden as well as at the mercantile. The murder of their father had forced them to grow up well earlier than Gloria ever hoped they would have to.

"Oh. That's right. Billy is with his grandparents now. You wouldn't know. Mr. Standish has taken the children on the herb and wildflower hunt."

"Oh, no. Billy will be so sorry he missed it. He was sick when Ezra gathered them all for the first walk two years ago."

"Aw, that's a shame. I'd forgotten. And then, of course, last year Mr. Standish was still recuperating from getting shot," Gloria reminded her friend.

Mary laughed. "We had a town full of disappointed children last year."

"Any time that man cannot make his appointments with the children leaves all of we mothers with one disconsolate child after another to deal with." They needn't have verbalized that the former con man was always similarly upset when this happened. It was the reason he added a mid-summer and late-summer/early fall version of the walk to the children's schooling schedule.

Mary reached out her hand to her friend, who grasped it warmly. "We are very lucky to have him, aren't we?"

"So much more than I could ever express."

"It's funny how Chris and the others don't feel the same way."

"Well, Mary, first off, boys will be boys. And secondly, I have no doubt that the man reserves just about all of his bad behavior away from you or me or the children. You can sometimes see it in his eyes, how he is just itching to get into it with someone. Better he get into it with them than with one of those 'miscreants' that they sometimes must deal with in order to keep us all safe."

"Yes. I definitely prefer it that way, but when Ezra does get up to no good, it leaves Chris in a foul mood."

"I guess that's your burden to bear, Mary. What I know is that it would be a very different thing raising two children alone without the help we have gotten from Mr. Standish and all of these wonderful men who chose to stay here."

"I know. I feel the same way with Billy. What do you suppose makes them stay?"

"Well, for some of them, the choice is easy. Chris loves you. Mr. Standish? Inez certainly keeps him here. But I believe he stays for other reasons. I cannot say what keeps Buck here, or Josiah. His congregation has not grown much, even though the town has."

"People need stability in their lives. I think he stays partly because he knows that. His church community will grow," Mary replied, hoping that it was true for the kind man. "I think Nathan feels a similar draw to the town. And a calling."

"I agree. Young J.D. and Casey. My, they are more on and off than Inez and Mr. Standish."

"Gloria, why do you still call him _'Mr. Standish'_?"

Gloria unclasped her hand from her friend's and walked over to fill up her watering can. "I don't know. I guess because he still calls me _'Mrs. Potter'_?" Mary stepped out of the alley and looked toward the restaurant and saw her breakfast companion looking toward her.

"You probably only need to ask him to call you by your first name. That's how we finally got to a first name basis, though you will need to work that angle. His habits, though in this case a good one, are very hard to break."

"Maybe I will. You have done well with Chris. He and Billy, they are quite smitten with one another," Gloria said with a smile. "I sense that it is the same with you and Chris."

"Yes, it is wonderful to see them together." She didn't feel she had the time, nor quite yet the inclination, to discuss the other part of that equation and said, "So, who is Ezra's assistant today?" The gambler now counted twenty-three students in his efforts to assist in their educations. He had been forced to cut back, though, as giving each of the students some individual attention in their specific age groups had begun to take up more time. Despite how thankful each and every parent was for the time and attention Ezra Standish put in with each child, they also knew that this temporary solution they all agreed to, with Ezra acting as a teacher, had gone on well longer than it should. The day Ezra Standish no longer instructed the children would be just about the hardest day these parents will have faced in a very long time.

"He actually has two helpers today. Vin and J.D. are both joining the tour. J.D. because Casey is looking to learn more about the medicinal benefits of some of the desert flowers … "

"Oh, that's right. She recently asked Nathan if she could help out in the clinic," Mary remembered.

"That's right. And Vin, of course, has extensive knowledge of the plants' uses and also is keenly aware of any dangerous or poisonous ones."

"And I am sure that Nathan sent them with a list and a sack or two for collecting to replenish his stocks."

"He did," Gloria said with a happy laugh. She looked at her garden and said, "Done." The two women headed back out to the main avenue. "And a bag of supplies in case anyone comes into contact with plants that prick a finger or burn when touched."

"Well, with Ezra, Vin, J.D. and Casey, that seems like a good number of adults to keep the class safe," Mary said. The owner of The Clarion Newspaper did not want to shelter her son too much, but just the thought of having to use some of the contents of Nathan's special bag sent a shudder through her.

"I am sure everyone will be fine." She stood looking at Mary, and then heard the jingle of spurs coming up the street. "Well, I have a business to open up."

"And I have a breakfast meeting with this man," Mary said as she turned and reached up to give Chris a quick peck on the cheek. "And then I have a very old newspaper press that needs a lot of work to get moving, and today's edition to … well," she smiled as any other word failed to come to her, "edit."

"Good morning, ladies," Chris said.

"Good morning, Chris," Gloria said in greeting to the tall blond. "Have a lovely day, both of you."

"You, too," Chris and Mary said as they headed toward their morning meal.

"You're not thinking of trying your hand, or thumb, at gardening again," Chris suggested, as though it was a pretty bad idea.

Mary rolled her eyes. "No, but you don't have to say it like that."

"Just wanted to save all those plants from their inevitable fate."

"Shut up," the pretty woman said as she squeezed her man around the waist, a happy smile on her face.

* * *

"But there isn't a flower on it, Mr. Ezra."

"That is correct, Miss Emily. There are some of the plants on our list that will not bloom until well into the summer." Vin smiled as his friend interacted with the kids. The gambler truly thrived on giving them the attention, though the tracker knew that what Ezra got back was treasured by the man just as much as what he gave.

"But we should still try to tell what the plant is from the early leaves."

"That is correct as well, Master Aaron." Aaron, and his sister Annie were orphaned upon the death of their father, Tom Arthur. Tom had insinuated himself well into the fabric of Four Corners, as both the new undertaker and veterinarian. After his murder, the rancher Robert Merton and his wife Abigail adopted them into their family, joining young Emily. They grew swiftly into one happy family. "Come closer, children. As you can see, the stem and the leaves of this plant that Miss Emily identified should be recognizable to those of you who have been regulars for our botany walks." Ezra regularly scheduled the walks now so that all of the children would have ample opportunity to join in as well as to capture all of the growth that was so critical to, not only Nathan's cupboard full of dried vegetation for healing, but also so that the children know what they should and should not touch when they are out playing. Most of the dangerous plants were not found near town, but that didn't mean that seeds couldn't waft in at any time and take root.

"Is it a purple coneflower?" Felicity Albertson asked. At fifteen years of age, she was the oldest of the children in Ezra's classes. A bright child, she would have become a scientist, but for her gender and a father determined to marry her off far too young.

"You, my dear," the southern gentleman said, pointing to the young lady, soon to be a woman, at least in the culture of the west. He put his finger to his nose, "have got it right on the nose, though it could be one of several colors in the spectrum. Purple is, however, quite common in these parts. Now, does anyone recall the scientific name for this plant?"

Felicity, an excellent student, was also a kind and observant child. She knew the answer to the question Ezra asked, but kept silent, allowing one of her fellow students the chance to answer correctly.

"Echinacea purpurea." The card sharp turned to find Ralph Burberry, the face to match the voice.

"Well done, Master Ralph. Do you recall what the flower will look like?" Ezra looked down at the little boy. The observant card sharp had learned early on that Ralph didn't like it when adults lifted him up and he didn't like it when they knelt in front of him. Most of the adults in town hadn't noticed, but Ezra had and he made sure that his six compatriots knew about it, too.

"I think so, Mr. Ezra. They'll be tall," he started. Ezra nodded his head. "And they can be purple or pink and they look kind o' like a daisy, only bigger."

"Yes indeed. Excellent. Now, who among us can give a use for the Echinacea purpurea that our healer Mistah Jackson might find practical?"

A little blond boy sitting up on Vin's shoulder called out, "Ooh! Keepin' a cold away."

"Yes, if administered promptly, it can do that, Master Thomas." Thomas Maxwell was a sponge when it came to absorbing the information Ezra passed along to the children. He was small for his ten years, thus explaining why he sat up high in order to witness the goings-on. Thomas loved towering over everyone. "Anybody else?"

"It can make sores, burns and toothaches feel better," little Mabel Morton said softly.

"Very true, Miss Mabel. And indeed, we will find none of this genus to pick just yet. Who can tell me why?

"I can, Mr. Ezra." The barely audible declaration came from the youngest and tiniest member of the class, Jeremiah Pike. Just five years old and as sharp as one of Nathan Jackson's knives, Jeremiah 'please don't call me Jerry' was the offspring of the newest owner of Bucklin's General Store, now known as Bucklin's Grocery and General Store. Chester Bucklin sold the establishment not long after the Seven were re-hired by Judge Orin Travis to mind the town after the unsuccessful tenure of the late Marshall Walter Bryce. Ben Pike was well-liked, as was his wife Dorothy 'please, PLEASE call me Dottie.' Along with the business, including the tiny apartment at the back of the building, the Pikes acquired the large plot of land behind the building where Bucklin's late wife planted an abundance of berry bushes and some trees. A large storage and work building at the far corner represented the outer property line. A perfect square of fencing enclosed the garden area from the storage building out to two smaller sheds and then to the back entrance to Bucklin's. The Pikes kept the name, as it was a business widely used by other nearby towns.

The garden was a sight to behold. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries – both red and black, huckleberries; bushes and bushes of them. Trees had been planted strategically to provide shade, as needed in the worst heat of the day, with larger trees out farther from the fenced in area as a break to the winds. A substantial windmill drew water up to keep the area hydrated, with trenches distributing the water to the entire garden. Apricot, plum and apple trees worked their magic in their prime fruit-bearing job, but were the prime protectors of the berry plants as well from the harsh southwest sun. Rhubarb and mint rounded out the back section of the garden. From the back door and leading out to the footpath that led to the fruitful extravaganza, the pathway was lined with herbs for cooking, the door from the back leading directly into the kitchen where delicious fruit-filled delights occasionally made their way to the lawmen who protected the town, as well as the shelves of the grocery. Ezra, curious about the garden but not the least inclined to wish to maintain it, was forever grateful that this family took up ownership of the prized property.

"Well, Master Jeremiah," Ezra said as he lifted the tiny child into his arms. "Why might that be?"

"Because the flowers won't really start to bloom until July," the little boy said in a near whisper, as though he was telling the gambler a big secret. Most everyone had heard what the child said; they all knew to remain quiet when the diminutive, softly-spoken child had something to say.

"Precisely." Ezra set Jeremiah down on the ground, patted the boy's strawberry-blond locks, and led the group away from the coneflowers. The Pike boy's hand was taken up by Emily Merton, the tiny child's self-appointed protector.

"Mr. Nathan will be happy there is so much coneflower," Edgar Rivers said.

"He will, Master Edgar. There are many applications for Echinacea that our fine healer can put to good use."

"Hey, Ezra! What's this?" J.D. called, followed by a shouted, "Shiiiii … " which was cut short by a hard elbow to his arm from Casey Wells. He yelled "Ow!" - now for more reasons than one.

"Mr. J.D., that's Prickly Poppy," Hannah Timmons said as though it was obvious, which to most in the group, it most likely was.

"We ain't s'posed ta touch it," Millie Pedersen said.

"Lemme see," Vin grumbled as he pulled J.D.'s hand to his face for closer inspection.

"We _are_ _not_ supposed to touch it, Miss Millie," Ezra corrected.

"Oh, foot!" the extra tall, extra thin thirteen-year-old exclaimed.

"No need to be upset, darlin'. You are doin' fine with your lessons. We should try to remembah, despite what we might hear from others," Ezra added as he looked to his two partners in crime fighting, "that _'ain't'_ is nevah proper."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

Ezra stepped up to his student and gave her a hug. "Do not be sorry. You are doin' fine," he reemphasized. Millie's family were first generation Danish, right off the boat. Millie had picked up just the slightest accent from her parents. Her mother and father, as Ezra would attest, were quite hard to understand, and they were picking up the worst of the grammar mistakes from the many uneducated in these parts and passing those bad habits on to their daughter. Millie was an eager if not a stellar student; the former con man hoped he would be able to break her of some of the worst of what she had learned before joining his classes.

"Ow! Vin!" J.D complained.

"Oh, stop bein' a baby, J.D.," Casey chastised.

"It hurts," J.D. whined, followed by a shouted, "Ouch!"

"Jest makin' sher ya ain't … uh, don't have nothi … anything stuck in yer finger." Vin had been Ezra's private student for some time now, learning to read and write, though he still was working on expanding his vocabulary and correcting years of trouble that no formal education had wrought. Spending time with the kids, most of whom were not inclined to make mistakes around their 'Mr. Ezra', made the tracker more conscious of his own mistakes … and not desirous to make any in front of this class full of children.

"Mistah Dunne, Vin is only doin' what Mistah Jackson would do. It is just as critical that nothin' remain in a simple wound like a cut from a sharp plant might cause as it is to remove dirt and cloth from the wound caused by a bullet, knife or arrow."

"Because the body doesn't always react well to foreign objects," Ezekiel 'Zeke' Parsons said. Zeke and his parents and his baby sister Ida Louise were only the third Negro family to move into Four Corners. Zeke was a bright young man, and spent as many hours as his mother and father would allow at Nathan's side. He'd learned quite a lot in the four short months since he started volunteering his time observing and helping the healer. Nathan was always happy for the help, whether from Casey and Zeke, or the many women always willing to volunteer to help out when the healer was swamped, or from one of the Seven when one of their own was forced to spend time in the clinic.

"Infection," the tall black child added.

"I know. Ow! Vin!"

Casey shook her head at the minor spectacle J.D. was making in front of the children as the former bounty hunter said, annoyed, "All right. Reckon you'll live."

"Very well, children," Ezra announced, sending a glare to the easterner, letting him know with just one look that he was within range of being relegated to the group he just called to if he didn't get himself together, "do you see anything else that is on our list?"

"Shouldn't we talk about Prickly Poppy since Mr. J.D., I mean … ?" Josephine Milton asked. Her red hair sprayed about in unruly curls, mimicking her mother's identical locks.

"Indeed we should, Miss Josephine. Would you like to tell us about it?" Ezra asked gently.

"I would. It's Latin name is Argemone mexicana, at least this one here is. The bright yellow ones are the mexicana, um, species?"

"That is excel … " the gambler began to compliment the eleven-year-old, but Josephine Milton had the floor … at least, the desert floor, and she would not be denied her chance to impress her teacher.

"Mr. Nathan can use the plant for kidney pain," she went on. Ezra grimaced, having suffered painful injuries to his kidneys more than once. "Also sick headaches, though it doesn't always work." Several of the older children were aware of how debilitated Ezra became when he suffered one of those. "It's a sed-a-tive and helps with pain." Josephine looked over to Vin, knowing that the tracker had been treated with the teas that Nathan would brew with this particular plant. He smiled back at the redhead, giving her a wink.

"That is correct. Can you explain, Miss Josephine, in some other way what a 'sedative' is?" the man in the aubergine colored jacket encouraged.

"It means something to help you sleep," she answered with confidence. "It also helps when there's, um …." She looked around, noting that there were some in her class who were not quite ready to hear about placentas and how Prickly Pear could help expel it from a woman who had just had a baby. Josephine wasn't even really old enough to want to know about it, except for the fact that her mother had just gone through something like that with her little brother last year. She chose her words carefully. "It helps when a mommy has some trouble after havin' a baby."

"Once again, you are right."

"And chewin' the seeds can help you if you're all bound up and havin' trouble goin'."

Ezra did his best to hide the grimace. "Thank you for that very detailed explanation, Miss Josephine. Now, children, what is our next plant?" the still-frowning gentleman gambler asked, anxious to move away from the more unpleasant aspects of this particular job. You never knew what kids would say, or how long they would continue saying it. Ezra caught Vin's eye; the former buffalo hunter didn't even make an attempt to hide his amusement at the poker player's discomfort. Well, turnabout was fair play. Ezra would get his revenge.

"There's a lot of Valerian over there near the trees," Clarissa Olson said.

"Ah, yes. Valeriana officinalis. And why is this lovely plant on Mr. Jackson's list?" the southerner asked his pupils.

"Mr. Jackson uses this in one of his teas for getting to sleep, too," Zeke replied.

"Correct."

"It's so pretty, with the pinkish-purple flowers and the white ones over there," Clarissa happily _commented_.

"It is beautiful, and it blooms for a long time," Casey said. "We have lots of it out at Nettie's."

"And what is the most important part about harvesting this plant?" Ezra asked.

The mid-spring botany sojourn was useful as more than just a learning experience for the children, both in identifying the good and helpful plants of the high desert, but also in educating the youth of Four Corners in plants they should refrain from touching, either due to simple dangers, like J.D.'s cut from the otherwise mostly beneficial Prickly Poppy, or more dangerous ones such as Jimson weed which is so terribly toxic, or any number of plants in the rockier areas that were a convenient refuge for rattlesnakes.

A primary benefit of this nature walk was the actual harvest of plants that were ready to be picked in order to enhance Nathan's stocks, or to note the location, as with the coneflower plants, for future harvest.

"We have to dig up the root," Annie, Aaron's sister said.

"That is correct. And what is of utmost importance when we perform this delicate operation? Miss Vivian?"

Vivian Watson was a shy little girl. Ezra held deep affection for her. She lived with her grandfather, the owner of the hardware store, but the child was getting little to no attention from the elderly man, and even less affection. One of the part-time jobs that the gambler had enlisted at least a dozen townspeople for, including each of his fellow peacekeepers, was to watch out for the child. She needed far more attention than she was getting at home. More than one person had come to fetch one of the Seven to gather the child up, assure that she received a decent meal, and then, reluctantly, return her to her grandfather's doorstep.

"Um," the sweet child said. She blinked her unbelievably long eyelashes. Ezra gave her a warm smile as he kneeled before her and offered an encouraging press of his hand to her bony shoulder. She replied, "We have to only take some from each plant so that they grow back even bigger next year." Ezra pulled the lonely child to his chest and gave her a quick hug.

"Exactly right, Miss Vivian." He let her go; Aaron took her hand and kept her close by. Ezra turned to J.D. and said, "Mistah Dunne, will you be able to harvest the Valerian, under Miss Casey's supervision, with your injury?"

"Very funny, Ezra. Yeah, we'll be fine. Zeke, you wanna help?"

"Sure."

"So, let us meander, so as not to lose the rest of our party, and find some Viola adorada."

"Ooh, they're my favorites," Hyacinth Anne Simpson said. "We call them Sweet violets." It seemed more than appropriate that a girl named for a flower would learn to love plants as much as Hyacinth had.

"Indeed we do. And where will we be most likely to find them?" the fancily-dressed instructor asked.

"Way close to the ground," said Albert Sanchez, no relation to the town's holy man and member of the Magnificent Seven.

"And what else is important about them just now?"

"Mr. Ezra?" asked little Jeremiah.

"Yes, young suh?"

"I think," the little boy said, hesitantly, "it's that they are getting to the end of blooming for the year. You told us that they are early-season, a har … harb … harbinger of spring."

"That," Ezra said as he picked the boy up in his arms, "Master Jeremiah, is correct. But we will find some well fresh enough for picking. Does anyone remember where we have previously seen a bounty of Sweet violets?" A series of 'Yes', 'I do', 'I remember' and 'Ooh, I know' echoed about them in the natural amphitheater created by the rock walls on two sides and the semi-canyon of the large hill to their right. Ezra took that moment with all of the children chiming in to set Jeremiah down and to glance at the sky, where he saw clouds rolling towards them overhead. "Master David?" the teacher asked as he saw how anxious the youngster was to answer the question. He raised his left hand high, barely containing the verbal 'ooh-ooh' that his body language shouted to everyone about. The boy's right arm was splinted and wrapped, a closely tied sling keeping the limb from too much jostling.

"They'll be where it's a little shady, over there under the grouping of trees."

"Though we will see them in the sun, time spent in it will be the shorter part of this lovely flower's day. The bettah ones for us to harvest for Mistah Jackson to dry will be nearer the spring, under the trees. Well done. Now, as we await Mistah Dunne, Miss Casey and Master Ezekiel, perhaps Mistah Tanner could explain to us what our healer's use is of the Sweet violet."

Vin Tanner sent Ezra Standish a scowl, a look that very rarely ever made it to the handsome Texan's face. It was a look put to better use by their friend, Chris Larabee. It was a look, and a feeling, frankly, that simply did not fit with the laid back nature exuded by the man in buckskins. Chris Larabee? Well, it wasn't an expression the lawman was forced to use very much anymore, but certainly no one would blink if he chose to file for a patent on that particular glare. He hadn't earned the 'notorious gunman' moniker for nothing; that look scared away plenty who deigned to challenge the quick draw.

"Well," the long-haired man started, not at all comfortable speaking in front of a crowd, even if the oldest one in said crowd was a mere fifteen years of age. "Uh, Nathan, er, um, Mr. Jackson, he cooks the flowers in sugar. He makes a, um, a cough syrup for, uh … well, for coughs." He took a deep breath, catching up to what he'd lost when he forgot to breathe at the beginning of his mini lecture.

"Eloquently said, Mistah Tanner." The steel in the crystal blue eyes, a stare that to so many was disconcerting, though not apparently to the southerner, the flat draw of the lips and the jaw held tense and square verified that Ezra had gotten his payback. At that moment, the former con man felt one of the tails of his jacket being pulled. He turned and looked down to see Edgar Rivers. Uh-oh. This was trouble. The child was nothing if not precocious, and curious. Being only eight years of age, Edgar, completely guileless, could hurt the gambler with the next thing out of his mouth.

"Yes, Master Edgar?"

"What does elo … eloq … eloquent … ly mean?"

"Yeah, Mist _ah_ Standish, what does _'eloquently'_ mean?"

Ezra stared at Vin, knowing that his annoying friend knew the definition. He smiled broadly, Vin did not smile in return, and then the professional card player said, "It means that what was said was spoken well, with great aplomb."

"Mr. Ezra?" Emily Merton asked, her hand raised.

"Yes young lady?"

"What does _'aplomb'_ mean?" A smile did make it to Vin's face this time, after he snickered out loud.

"Aplomb means …." Ezra realized that his next word – finesse – was going to keep him in this frustrating circle of vocabulary hell if he didn't, right this minute, nip it in the bud, so the speak.

"Children, we will have our regular Wednesday vocabulary lesson the day after tomorrah."

"Mr. Ezra, I could give the definition of 'aplomb'."

Ezra looked at Josephine Milton and said, "Then you shall be the first one Ah call on during our vocabulary lesson. On Wednesday." The near-foot stomping and the definite pout were a close call, but the child was observant enough, as well as disciplined enough, to know that the discussion was over for today.

As Ezra worked his way out of the corner that he blamed Vin Tanner for getting him into, the skies had darkened dramatically. Vin, J.D and Casey, along with the class, followed Ezra out to the farthest point of their journey earlier in the morning. The points of interest for all of the plants on today's list were leading them back to town. There was no urgency to get to everything on their list; Nathan and Josiah would make a trip out later in the week if today's group was unable, due to inclement weather, to gather the Evening Primrose, the St. Johnswort, the California Poppy or the Yarrow. The last one, much like the coneflower, was simply a scouting mission this day as the blooms useful for fever and to stanch the bleeding of wounds wouldn't be ready to harvest until late summer. Victor Bunting, just a couple of months younger than Felicity and the second oldest in the class, was not much for outward signs of participation, but he had eagerly volunteered to be their scribe today to make note of where they found the plants, a documentation of all of the plants important, but the locations of the ones for later in the summer of primary significance.

There was one plant that the gambler was intent on getting to today. It was one that Vin Tanner also had a keen interest in.

"It appears that we should head back to town," Ezra said. They were not too far away. "On our way we will stop at the meadow just as the road curves into town, just before the stand of cottonwoods, at the edge of the arroyo. Who can tell me the Latin name for Self Heal?"

"Can I?" asked Stella Del Rossi. Her parents, Luigi and Silvia, were Italian immigrants. Their English was splendid, their accents wonderfully thick and an enjoyable challenge for the former con man to understand. The rest of the Seven had taken to looking Ezra's way for a translation. The gambler considered the habit they had developed lazy and would be discussing that with them soon, all but Chris who, as surprising as it seemed, was more patient with the pair than expected. Ezra caught Chris more than once listening in when the southerner, who spoke fluent French and Spanish, and was well versed in Latin, practiced his Italian, a language he had learned long ago but never really found a use for in practice. It was a beautiful language, but not particularly helpful in his travels, as French had been in New Orleans and Spanish was out here in the West. Maybe the former gunslinger was a budding linguist; Ezra put that thought to the back of his mind, for now.

"Certo, signorina."

Stella giggled, and with her excellent grasp of Latin pronunciation, said, "Prunella vulgaris."

"Beautifully said. And what does Mistah Jackson use this plant for?"

"Disinfecting a wound," Maria Martinez called out. She, her brother Orlando and their parents were recent additions to Four Corners from Mexico.

"That is right. Anything else?" Ezra asked the class, followed by, "here we have the Prunella vularis. Would several of you help Mister Dunne and Miss Casey with plucking as much of this as quickly as possible?" Several children made their way to the ground to start cutting the purple flowers, including the stem, but leaving the mound of leaves on the ground. "Ah fear Mothah Earth is plannin' to ruin the rest of our day." After looking at the sky, he looked down at the children looking up to him and asked again, "So, other uses?"

"Mr. Nathan makes a tea for a sore throat and fever," William Stanton said, Willie as he was known to one and all, and he _**was**_ known to one and all as his mother Eunice had more than a few times been seen dragging her son down the main street of Four Corners … by his ear. The woman was not afraid to embarrass her son in her efforts to keep her boy in line.

"Also correct, Master Willie. And one more?"

"I chew a leaf or a stem now and again," Vin admitted.

"Indeed. Our Mistah Tanner has a back that flairs with pain on occasion, and this plant is quite good at easing that pain," Ezra explained, "though Ah do know that Mistah Jackson would suggest to all of you children and your families to come to him for a proper mixture of the medicinal tea that he makes that includes the plant."

"And I know Nathan uses the juice of Self Heal mixed with oil of roses to rub on your, um, a person's forehead to help with headaches."

"Yes, Miss Casey, Mistah Jackson does have this preparation in his repertoire, and Ah myself have been fortunate enough to be soothed by its curative powers."

"Um, Mr. Ezra … "

"Yes, Miss Emily. One moment. Master Victor?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you please write down 'repertoire' and 'curative' for our vocabulary class?"

Just a moment went by, and then Victor replied, "Done. I added the words from earlier, too."

"Thank you, kindly. Bettah, Miss Emily?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Not at all, darlin'." The first of the raindrops started to fall, not a lot and not very big. "All right. Let us return before we all get wet." Casey picked up the tiniest of the children, with Vin, J.D. and Ezra getting the other three little ones and they all headed back into town. It wasn't long before the rain became a steady, light drizzle, and it was also not long before they could see the church standing on the edge of town.

"Your timing was pretty good, Ezra," J.D. said. "We got through a lot."

"Just more than half. Not bad. Ah had hoped the rains were through for a while."

The shower stopped, but the clouds told a story of more wet to come. The little children squirmed to get out of the arms of the adults, and they all obliged. As the children skipped and laughed and used up more of the energy they still had stored up from a good night's sleep, loud explosions of gunfire were heard.

"Children! Everyone, go to the back of the church. J.D.," Ezra said. The sheriff ran to the back entrance to check that it was safe to move the students into the sanctuary.

"Josiah?" J.D. called. "Josiah!"

The former preacher tore into the room from the main sanctuary. "Bring 'em in," he said. "Knew with the rain you might be headin' back."

"You know what's goin' on?" J.D. asked. "Come on in, kids!"

"I don't." To the children, he said, "Everyone go to the front of the sanctuary. Stay on the floor. Do not go past the first row of pews. Everything will be fine."

"Mr. Ezra!" one of the children cried.

"Everything will be fine," Ezra said as he knelt in front of the crying child. All of the children swarmed around, circling the gambler. "Mistah Tanner and Mistah Dunne and I must go. Mistah Sanchez and Miss Casey will stay here with you." Crying was going on among the younger of the children, though the older ones were having their own trouble dealing with the gunfire. "Now, now, don't worry. We will take care of this and then get you to your mothahs and fathahs."

"Can't we go to them now?" one of the children questioned.

"No, Miss Annie. But the sooner we go, the sooner we can get this done."

Ezra stood and did not look back as he, Vin and J.D. left out the back door. They worked their way over to the right side and then approached the front of the church. From this angle they could now see what they knew they would: a robbery was being attempted on the bank. Again.

"J.D.," Vin said quietly. "Go back inside and take Josiah's place. Tell 'im to git in the tower."

"But Vin … "

"Go do it, kid. Can't leave Casey and the kids all alone, and 'siah's got a good view from up there." And he was the second best shooter from a distance among the lawmen.

"All right. Watch yer backs," the youngest member of the protectors of the town said.

Ezra had kept his eyes focused on the street and, more specifically, the bank about a third of the way into town. He knew that most of the return fire toward the bank robbers was coming from the alley between the saloon and the hardware store. As they stood there, the rain began anew, and it wasn't a light shower.

"Aw, hell," the former con man said, wishing that he had chosen his drab tan coat for today's excursion.

"It sounds like four returnin' fire," Vin noted.

"Chris, Buck, Nathan, perhaps Robert Merton."

"'siah's in place by now. I'm headin' up to the roof of Bucklin's."

"I will give you sixty seconds, Mistah Tanner. And then Ah will be obliged to provide a distraction to redirect these miscreants' fire from our compatriots."

"Be careful, Ez. Might be better to jest wait 'em out."

"Yes, Ah am certain that all of the business owners will be pleased that we allowed their stores to be shot up waiting them out."

Vin cocked his head. "Reckon not. Jest watch yer back."

"And you yours, mah friend."

Ezra stayed in placed for just a moment, noting that there seemed to be the sound of another gun joining in with the peacekeepers. _'Whoever you are, thank you,'_ the gambler thought to himself. He didn't wait for Vin to position himself; he saw the fringe of the tracker's jacket scoot across the roof of Watson's store. Ezra ran around the back of the church, heard some of the children calling his name inside, and then worked his way over to the livery.

"Tiny," he said as he ran inside the stables.

"Mr. Standish, what … "

"Bank. Again," Ezra panted from his quick run. "I'll need to borrow your wheelbarrow."

"A … All right."

The card sharp went over to Chaucer, gave the horse a fond pat and said, "Do not worry, this will be over soon," and then headed to his store of supplies along the side of Chaucer's stall. He knew that 'undesirables' would not be able to get to this box; Chaucer still was only willing to allow a chosen few people from town near him. He grabbed a stick of dynamite. Tiny watched as the soaking wet man filled some straw into the wheelbarrow and then placed a blanket over it. He took his knife, cut the fuse to what seemed to the liveryman dangerously short and set the dynamite just under the edge of the cloth to keep it dry. Ezra looked up and saw Tiny watching him.

"Ah may owe you a new pushcart when this is all through."

"I don't care about that. You be careful."

"Thank you … "

"Ain't that fuse too short?"

"Ah am afraid for this to work, it needs to be," Ezra said as he checked the lucifers in his jacket. They had not gotten wet … yet. Ezra grabbed the handles and left the livery, moving as swiftly as possibly as he pushed the wheelbarrow down the street, keeping to the west side of the avenue. He knew the robbers were not concentrating on this side of town with all the firepower coming from his friends who were located at the hardware store and north. The smoke lingering in the air from all the gunfire, and the water trough situated to the far side of Virginia's Hotel – and the still darkening skies - kept him well-hidden, though he knew that in order to do what he needed, he had to get to the front of that water container. They might see him then. He didn't know how many 'them' there were, but considering how long the firing was going on, he knew that he had to risk this diversion.

"What're ya doin', Ez?" Vin asked from the roof. The fine sharpshooter felt the fool, knowing that he couldn't fire now without bringing Ezra's position to the attention of the bank robbers. He would be ready, though, when Ezra made his move. There was no chance that Vin's friend didn't have something to cause an explosion; the tracker would be ready to take anyone out who tried to shoot the foolhardy poker player.

"Damn it, Ezra," Josiah said up in the bell tower, at just about the same time that Vin had the exact same realization.

Buck saw the wheelbarrow heading from the south of town. "Ezra," he growled.

"What?" Chris asked as he continued to fire. The bank was getting the worst of the bullet holes; the small alley between the mercantile and the bank saving Gloria Potter's business, the Virginia Hotel on an angle such that very few stray bullets were making their way into the building's wood structure.

"Ezra's pushing that wheelbarrow."

"Looks like he's been out in the rain a while."

"He's gonna try to create a diversion," Nathan said, a slight smile coming to his face as he remembered the diversion that Ezra and Buck had attempted when they went out to arrest Tophat Bob Spikes, and ultimately Guy Royal at Royal's ranch, Josiah's own diversion fortuitously timed.

"Yeah," Buck said. "Get ready for a boom."

Ezra stopped his manual transport, leaned in, struck the match once, then twice against the metal strike plate that Yosemite had attached to the cart just for this purpose. Ezra grabbed the stick of dynamite, lit the short fuse, tossed it in the cart and pushed it to the front of the boardwalk of the bank, and then turned to throw himself behind the relative protection of the watering trough.

"What the hell?" the gambler heard yelled as his body flew through the air. The man who yelled got off a shot, clipping Ezra in the arm and changing his trajectory just enough that his head collided with the ground before he was ready. He heard the gunfire from before continue, but knew he also heard the loud percussion of Josiah's rifle from afar, and Vin's mare's leg somewhat closer. A smile came to his face as he lost consciousness.

* * *

"Ezra."

"Knocked himself out," Buck said.

"Not exactly," Josiah said as he watched Nathan attempt to wake the card sharp.

"He ain't moved or blinked or nothin'. You sure he's alive, Nate?"

"J.D.," Chris growled. The entire class of students was waiting anxiously, their worried parents unable to get even one of them to move before they saw Mr. Ezra wake up.

"Oh. Yeah, um. He's gonna be fine. He's been hurt worse than this."

"J.D."

"Yeah, Vin."

"Shut up."

"Ezra," Nathan said, more insistently. The healer had already determined that the wound to his arm, a deep gash with a persistent bleed, was not too much to worry about. It would require cleaning and stitches and several days of rest. He was worried about the knot on the front of Ezra's forehead. The gambler had been unconscious now for several minutes.

The murmuring crowd made way for tiny Jeremiah Pike, who would not be denied making his way to his favorite person.

"Mr. Ezra!" he cried loudly. "Wake up. Wake up!"

"It's all right, Jeremiah. He will. Just needs time."

"But, Mr. Nathan?"

"Yeah, son?"

"He looks dead." Buck smothered the burst of laughter that had bubbled up from his stomach. Chris glared at his old friend; J.D. punched his best friend hard in the arm.

Ezra blinked. Jeremiah was the first to see it. "Um, he can't blink if he'd dead, right?"

Nathan looked down quickly and smiled broadly. "No, can't do that." His smile eased the tension among the rest of the Seven. "Ezra?"

The southerner opened his eyes, the sky still gray, which for the moment he was grateful about. He could feel that he was laying in mud. He grimaced at that, and at the terrible pain in his head.

"Ah trust that we successfully thwarted the miscreants tryin' to rob the bank." He heard the children talking among themselves. "Master Victor, would you … "

"I've got _'thwarted'_ and _'miscreants'_ , though I think most of us know that one by now."

"Indeed. Thank you." The teacher chose not to try to look at anything anymore. There were too many faces, and the effort was taxing, at best.

"Mr. Ezra?"

Again, he kept his eyes closed but answered the tiny child. "Yes, Master Jeremiah?"

"Are you all right?"

"Ah … Ah failed to take into consideration what might happen if Ah were to get hit. Ah might have dived more to land on mah back than on mah front. A tactical error, sans doute."

Jeremiah frowned and said nothing. There was too much that the little boy didn't understand. Ezra opened his eyes, saw the fear and confusion on the young child's face.

"Master Victor?"

"Yes, sir. I've got 'consideration', 'tactical' and 'sans doubt'. Is that Latin?"

"French. And thank you once more. Master Jeremiah, I am fine."

"No you ain't," the little boy said.

"No you are not," Ezra corrected.

"That's what I said," Jeremiah insisted.

"No, Ah … Ah am fine," Ezra assured the insistent child, though he wisely made no effort to get up and try to prove it.

"No, but I'm thinkin' you will be. Mr. Nathan's here. Maybe you need some o' that Self Heal with, um, the oil of roses that Miss Casey talked about? Or some o' that Prickly Poppy that Josie said was good for headaches." This time Nathan laughed lightly.

"The former, indubitably."

"What …?"

"Master Victor?"

"I got it!"

The End.


End file.
